


As Tears Go By

by Aragarna



Category: White Collar
Genre: Aftermath, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-29
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-09 14:24:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3253070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tag to episode 6x06. The unthinkable happens, and Peter doesn't know how he's going to live with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Tears Go By

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from The Rolling Stones' song As Tears Go By. Many thanks to Anodyneer for the beta.

“I’m sorry, Agent Burke.”

Peter feels his heart break. It’s tangible, physical, a neat break inside his chest. Suffocating, he gasps for air. The world turns bleak and cold, loses its colors. Everything becomes grey and vague. He feels the doctor’s hand on his arm, attempting to ground him, comfort him. It’s so derisory. He feels numb, lost. It’s like he’s outside of the world. There’s an invisible barrier between him and everyone and everything around him.

“We want to see him,” Mozzie states.

Through the haze that has enveloped Peter, the little guy’s voice sounds strangely casual. He’s way too calm, while Peter is screaming inside. Though that’s probably because Mozzie won’t believe Neal is dead unless he has irrefutable proof. He didn’t see how pale and fragile Neal looked earlier, how much blood he had lost. He didn’t see the resignation in his eyes.

Peter and Mozzie are led to the lower floors. As they wait in a cold and foreign corridor, they don’t exchange a word, carefully avoiding eye contact, because neither of them wants to see the reflection of their own despair in each other’s eyes. Yet, they instinctively make sure to stay close enough to one another, as if each other’s presence was giving them the strength not to break down.

Peter stands there, on the edge of a bottomless precipice, holding his breath, jaws clenched so tight that it hurts. His heart is racing against his ribcage.

“Would you like to see him?” the doctor asks, and in silence, they follow him to the morgue.

He opens the mortuary bag, and it’s like a terrible and painful lash in Peter’s already battered heart. He looks away, it’s too hard. This is not how he wants to see Neal. This was not supposed to be like that. He turns his back and tries desperately not to hear the sincere pain and despair behind Mozzie’s conspiracy delirium.

But Mozzie’s sorrow breaks through the haze that separates him from the world. “It can’t be him, Peter. Neal always had it figured out. There was always a way out. It didn't matter how tight the scrape, Neal could always slide past. He could always get away.”

Peter finally looks at Neal’s still body, really looks at the painful truth lying in front of them. “Not this time,” he says sadly.

Neal had fooled them into believing he was immortal. But he wasn’t.

\-------------------------------------------

A medical assistant hands him things and he takes them, one after another, but nothing really registers. There’s his clothes, some cards, evidence, keys, nothing that makes sense, nothing that matters anymore.

And then, there’s the anklet. What’s left of his heart finishes breaking as he looks at it. This is all that remains of Neal Caffrey.

“You’re free,” he whispers. “You’re free.”

He’s been meaning to say it for so long, anticipating, longing for that moment. How many times has he dreamt of finally saying this over the past few days? Hell, over the past few years. He’s probably been hoping to be able to say it since the very first day, when Neal walked out of the prison facility and proudly lifted his pants leg to reveal the tracker.

He would have taken it off Neal’s ankle one last time, put it back in its box forever. He would have given Neal a heartfelt handshake – no, a hug, more probably a long, tight hug. Maybe they would have opened a bottle of champagne. He couldn’t decide if they would have done it at work, with all the team, or at home, with everyone Neal had made family.

_I’m so proud of you, Neal,_ he would have said. _You did it, Neal. Congratulations, Neal. You’re free._

You’re free.

None of this would ever happen now. Neal is gone. Forever. And Peter’s words are just as empty as the anklet.

His eyes are burning. He can barely breathe. He can feel the wave coming. He tries to hold it back a little longer. He looks around and sits on the chair, next to the small package of Neal’s belongings.

And only then, he lets it go.

It hits him like a tsunami, a terrible, devastating wave that can’t be contained any longer. Tears flow down his cheeks, down his neck. His entire body gets shaken up by the sobs. The pain, in his heart, is unbearable. He’s failed.

_You’re my best friend._

This is too much, he can’t handle it. He feels so empty, so alone. He grabs the package of Neal’s clothes and put it on his lap _._

He can’t understand how everything went suddenly so wrong, just when they were about to celebrate. He tries to think back to the course of events, but he can’t. All he’s seeing are images of Neal. Neal’s confident smile when they were in the back of the van. Neal’s blue eyes, saying goodbye. _You’re the only who saw the good in me._ Neal’s chalk-white dead body on a cold table of the morgue.

Tears keep flowing, bitter, painful, overwhelming. It’s his fault, it’s all his fault. He should have been able to protect him. Maybe they shouldn’t have gone after the Panthers. They surely shouldn’t have worked with Keller. He’d been such a fool to let Neal convince him it would be worth it. He shouldn’t have let his desire to set his friend free cloud his judgment. He should have called it off. It was his responsibility. Neal would have been upset, but alive. And they would have found another way. It is all Peter’s fault, and Neal is the one who paid the high price for it.

Neal is gone. It was all for nothing. All those years, working together, trying to show Neal a better world, a better way, everything, all swept away, erased, useless.

“I’m sorry, Neal,” he whispers to the wind. But he knows Neal doesn’t hear him. It’s too late.

Footsteps echoes in the hallway. He recognizes them even before he looks up. Elizabeth is approaching. Peter wipes his nose with the back of his sleeve and looks at her. He’s not sure why she’s here, how she found him. At least he won’t have to tell her. She obviously knows already. Through his own tears, he can see she’s been crying too, and it just adds a little more to his pain and his guilt.

Elizabeth sits next to him. Without a word, she wraps her arms around him and he buries his head in her shoulder. She gently rubs his back. It doesn’t ease the pain, but it relaxes his body a little. The sobs slowly subside, though the tears still flow from his eyes.

After a while, Peter sits up and leans back against the wall. He stares at an invisible point in front of him.

“He had six months left, El,” he says in a low voice after clearing this throat. “If I hadn’t taken the deal, he would have been out in six months.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have taken the deal. Or at least he should have left Neal enjoying his good time on the island. Why did he drag him back? Maybe he shouldn’t have been so hard on him last year. Neal wouldn’t have been so desperate to cut his deal short. All Peter ever wanted was for Neal to get a second chance at life. Start over, with a clean slate, do something good with all his talents, so that he could enjoy life, a good legitimate life. All he wanted was to show him the way. He thought he was helping him.

But he failed, both as a friend, and a handler. He wasn’t able to protect him. Neal, his partner, his friend, died on his watch, on a case, while trying to help _him_ catch the Panthers.

“It’s not your fault, Hon,” Elizabeth says softly.

“He was my best friend, El. My partner. And I didn’t… I couldn’t…”

His voice breaks and he swallows back the painful lump in his throat. It’s excruciating. No matter how he tries to look at things, and despite the fact that he doesn’t understand how Neal ended up in that underground tunnel, Neal was still his responsibility, an unarmed civilian on his team, under his supervision. He doesn’t know what he should have done, but he obviously should have done _more_ to keep Neal safe. Peter can’t ignore his responsibility, and his failure. Now, he’s not sure how he’s going to live with this.

“I know,” she says softly as she caresses his temple.

She gently wipes the tears from his cheeks, but the flow never stops. He leans into her touch and closes his eyes. He’s grateful that she’s here. He doesn’t know how he’d do without El. He’s not sure he’d have the strength to pick himself up on his own.

Finally, Elizabeth picks up all of Neal’s belongings and slides them in her purse. Then she takes his hand in hers.  “Let’s go home,” she says.

Peter nods and slowly gets up. He feels cold, old, exhausted. Defeated. Reluctantly, he leaves Neal behind, and follows El outside.

 

FIN.

 

 


End file.
